


The Throne Wars

by Aurelia_Borealis



Category: Magnificent Century
Genre: F/M, basically sah's POV in second person as she tries to outwit harem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurelia_Borealis/pseuds/Aurelia_Borealis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'There was a reason you left the capital and never looked back. You don’t appreciate being used as a pawn in their petty harem games, especially when you’ve always had the wits to be the queen.'</p><p>This story canonically follows the plots and schemes hatched by Hurrem and Sah as they wage war against each other in order to be closest to the King. Second person POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrival - Sah

You’re not one to believe in rumors but, there’s a saying that where there’s smoke, there’s bound to be fire. 

Istanbul takes your breath away like it did the last time you were here. You’ve travelled across continents and seas, experienced a variety of terrains and climates, but nothing quite beats the dazzling allure of the Bosphorous – its cerulean blue waters glinting against the sunlight, soothing you every time you lay your eyes on it. For the thousandth time of your life, you take a minute to appreciate the strategic location of the Palace, with all of the residential rooms and large marble terraces overlooking the siren-song sea. Beyond the boats, begin rolls of undulating hills, coated in the green of oakwood trees.

You sigh in contentment.

It struck your curiosity, naturally, as to why you had been summoned back to the capital so suddenly. As far as you knew, the political climate had settled down and the dynasty was enjoying a welcome pause for peace. Then again, your network of spies had never been dense, nor reliable in the capital. 

But the meaning of your summoning becomes all too clear as soon as you step out of your carriage. A royal party awaits to welcome you, and by their strained faces you can tell whatever plots or schemes they have been hatching have been none too successful. 

You purse your lips. There was a reason you left the capital and never looked back. You don’t appreciate being used as a pawn in their petty harem games, especially when you’ve always had the wits to be the queen. 

As your sister comes forward to greet you, taking your hands in hers and kissing them with a none-too-hidden sigh of relief, it all suddenly becomes clear. Behind her, the entourage waits patiently for you to greet them. Several faces are familiar, but one especially stands out. 

If you took any stock in rumors, you would expect a gorgon to stand as the King’s favourite. And yet, as you had suspected, this woman is beautiful. Her most arresting feature, one might venture to guess, would be her hair. Yet, it is obvious that it is not the bright orange tresses that caught your brother’s attention, but t’was the fire in her eyes that matches the flames of her hair. 

This, as it has become apparent, is the woman that’s tested the patience and resolve of the harem many times over, and has outwitted the family at every turn. This is the reason you have been called to the capital.

The knights, rooks and bishops have conceded defeat and look to you to defend their King.

You’ve always yearned for a worthy competitor. 

Let the games begin.


	2. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short little poem, meant to depict Hurrem's thoughts at the time she found out that Mustafa had been killed.

Oh, how many years have passed since you stepped foot onto this blessed land,

how many seasons have changed since you were forced into this deadly cage,

how many lives lost,

how little gained.

 

Freedom is a fickle thing,

taken for granted, when given in abundance,

yet desperately yearned for when taken away,

you may hold your head high under the façade of freedom,

but the knowledge that you are forever chained drags you down like you are drowning.

 

The very same sun dazzles down in its glory,

the very same moon illuminates the night with its shining face,

the only portents of your past which haven't changed.

 

You desperately cling to any reminders of those years whence gone,

when life was but simple and routine,

a life so suddenly seized from you,

now naught but memory.

 

Fate, Destiny, Survival,

you are at the mercy of a higher power's whims,

pulling you in opposite directions,

dragging you to death's door, but being left just at the end.

 

Haven't you survived this?

 

Haven't you lived this a thousand times over?

You have endured the guilt and the agony that threatens to engulf you in its vastness.

So why is this time different?

 

Love, Hope, Mercy,

too often underestimated,

too often overlooked,

but you know the worth of a pleading glance,

you know the power of an appeal to one's better instincts,

you acknowledge that sometimes, it is the unlikeliest of things that could be your saving grace.

 

Tricks, Schemes, Manipulations,

all this you have survived without the utterance of a single prayer,

all this you have endured by keeping your wits sharp and your morals loose.

 

Why is this time different?

 

Why do you care now, when before such things have never mattered?

 

This cursed land has been the stone to whet your sword,

on these soils you have spilt rivers of blood,

in these waters you have watched yourself morph into the monsters of old,

the severity of survival stripping you to selfishness,

 

but not once did it bother you.

 

You gasp for breath, clawing at your throat, tearing against the hands that help you up,

knowing in that moment,

how it felt when they pounced,

tying that fateful wire around his royal neck,

holding him down,

choking,

waiting,

waiting with the agonizing virtue of patience as they took a life,

 

and in this moment you yearn for that sweet death,

knowing that of all the lives which you have taken,

this one was the most precious and undeserving.

 


End file.
